Forbidden
by bionic4ever
Summary: Doctor Michael Marchetti has fallen in love with his patient. Can he put aside his feelings and do what's right for Jaime?
1. Chapter 1

FORBIDDEN

by bionic4ever

Doctor Michael Marchetti gazed down at the woman he held in his arms and felt his heart doing cartwheels and backflips. At the same time, alarm bells began sounding in his head, loud and insistent.

Logic and reason told him that this woman was his patient; falling in love with her was absolutely unthinkable. He also knew the argument was futile - it was too late. Deferring slightly to ethics, he did remove his stethoscope (becoming 'just Michael') before drawing her even closer for a first, tentative kiss.

Jaime returned the kiss eagerly, without hesitation. Right and wrong were simply not in her thoughts. She had awakened in this hospital six months earlier, not knowing her own name and lacking even the most basic memories of her past. The medical staff had worked to gradually fill in some of the blanks for her, but a lot of what she'd learned, especially about her relationship with Steve Austin and their engagement, seemed like a story that had happened to a stranger. She accepted these things as facts but there was no emotional attachment involved; she _felt_ none of it.

The glowing warmth she felt in Michael's arms was totally new to Jaime. Feeling a teen-ager's crush from a woman's body, she kissed Michael harder until they were both nearly breathless than leaned back to look into his face.

"I love you so much," she told him with a teen-ager's stars in her eyes.

Although he was fully aware of the possible consequences, Michael couldn't help himself. I love you too, Sweetheart," he said, kissing her once again. They remained together, a single silhouette, until long after the sun went down. Neither of them noticed Doctor Rudy Wells watching them from a hospital window.

Michael had barely seen Jaime back to her hospital bed when Rudy cornered him in the hallway. "I'll see you in my office, Michael - now," he told his young associate with quiet anger.

Once they were inside, Rudy shut his office door and turned to Michael with his eyes blazing. He was angrier than Michael had ever seen him. "Care to tell me what the hell you were thinking - Doctor?" He spoke softly, through clenched teeth, but his words were white-hot.

"Rudy, it's not - "

"Well I'll tell you," Rudy stormed, not letting him finish. "You weren't thinking at all! She's your patient and you are her doctor. End of story!"

Michael knew his mentor could never understand, but he had to try. "I love her, Rudy," he said simply.

"You love her? _You love her!_ In two more days you will open this woman's skull and operate on her brain! _Her brain,_ Michael! This isn't just inappropriate; it's unethical. Do you want to lose your license?"

"Of course not. But I kissed her - that's all. It's not like I clubbed her over the head and dragged her back to my cave for sex!" Michael was angry now, too.

"Well I feel so much better now!" Rudy answered, forgetting to lower his voice. Catching himself, he brought his volume down before he went on. "Even if she wasn't your patient, she's so vulnerable right now. She was dead longer than any other person who has ever come back -"

"I think I know that," Michael argued. "I'm the one who brought her back!"

"That's exactly my point! Jaime knows that, too. She damn-near idolizes you, and you're taking full advantage of that."

"No..." Michael protested, but suddenly he wasn't so sure. He knew how he felt, but what was going on in Jaime's head?

Rudy softened. He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I know that was never your intention, but you need to be aware: that is how it looks to others. How it might look to the ethics board."

Michael nodded wordlessly. Rudy patted him on the shoulder and left him alone with his thoughts.

The next morning, the young doctor paused outside Jaime's hospital room. 'I'm here to check on my patient,' he reminded himself. Michael took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Michael - hi!" Jaime beamed at him from the bed and held out both of her arms to embrace him.

He took only her left arm and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around it instead. "Good morning," he said, as neutrally as possible. Jaime looked at him quizzically but said nothing as Michael through a basic surgical exam. "Perfect health," he proclaimed. "Any questions about your surgery tomorrow?"

Jaime hesitated. "No, but-"

"Ok, good. I probably won't see you until afterward. Your nurse will be in a hour before the procedure to give you the shot. No tests today; you're in great shape. Just take it easy and try to rest up."

Unable to look at her and without waiting for a response, Michael left the room. Jaime stared after him in complete bewilderment.

"What the hell was that?"


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime came out of the anesthetic like a drowning victim pulling for the surface. The first thing she saw when her eyes began to focus was Rudy's mustache. She was too groggy to be disappointed, but her subconscious cried out for one thing. "Michael," she murmured.

"No, Honey, it's Rudy." He bent down to check her pulse. "Michael was called away to a medical conference, so you're stuck with me for now. How do you feel?"

"Who stuffed cotton in my head?" Jaime mumbled, not very coherently. Rudy smiled at her and looked toward the doorway of the recovery room. Michael stood just outside Jaime's line of vision, intently observing every detail.

"That's normal, Jaime. It'll go away soon," Rudy told her.

"'K," she answered, drifting back into unconsciousness.

Keeping one eye on the patient, Rudy joined his collegue in the doorway. "Vitals are a little shocky, but nearly normal," he told Michael. "You were outstanding in there - especially considering she's the first human patient to undergo this procedure. Amazing work!"

"Thanks," Michael acknowledged, "But I wouldn't call it amazing until we know if it worked. That'll take at least a couple of days."

"Now you're being too modest," Rudy said. "I know your goal is to have 100 percent of her memory returned, but if you even took her from 10 or 15 percent to, say, 50 percent, it would be nothing short of a miracle." Michael opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by an extremely groggy vouce from across the room.

"So-o-o fuzzy..." Michael started quickly toward the side of the gurney but was halted by a shake of Rudy's head and Rudy's arm blocking his way.

"I've got her for now," Rudy reminded him. Michael nodded and moved back to his doorway vantage point. He knew it was for the best, at least until he regained some objectivity.

Rudy leaned over the gurney, close to Jaime's face. "Jaime?"

"Jus' like cotton," she slurred.

"Jaime," Rudy persisted, "Do you know who I am?"

"Cotton...fuzzy...Peter Cottontail!"

Both doctors smiled, and Rudy gently brushed the hair from her eyes. Why don't you just rest now, Honey? Close your eyes and go back to sleep."

Jaime sank back into a cross between sleep and unconsciousness, softly humming to herself: "Here comes Peter Cottontail..."

His patient's progress was amazing, even by Michael's exacting standards. Six hours post-operative, she was stable enough to be moved from ICU/Recovery to her own room. Twelve hours post-op, she was sitting up in bed, fully conscious and speaking in complete, coherent sentences. At the 24 hour mark, she began pestering the nurses to help her get out of bed, but Rudy insisted she wait at least another day or two before trying that.

Michael remained out of the picture, at least as far as Jaime knew. Even though Rudy had told her Michael had been asked to present his new surgical technique to an AMA conference, Michael had never really left the hospital at all. He remained aware of every minute aspect of his patient's condition, even sleeping in his office for the first few days in case Rudy needed to consult with him on Jaime's recovery.

Two days post-op, he felt he was finally ready and able to see her, and headed into her room. "Good morning!" he said briskly, getting right down to the business of checking her vitals.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like an old, wrung-out dishcloth. Kinda weak and floppy."

"How's the pain?"

"Rudy's got me pretty doped up, but the pain is definitely there."

"Well, you should feel a little bit stronger every day, and the pain will diminish as you start to get your strength back. It'll take time though, Jaime. That was pretty extreme surgery. Michael looked down and then glanced at Jaime with a mischievous smile on his face; he couldn't resist. "Any more cotton in your head? Or bunnies dancing across the floor?"

"Very funny, Marchetti. Been hearing about it from Rudy and the nurses for two days now - it's already old news." She grinned back at him. "How was your presentation?"

"Oh - it was ok." He met her gaze, and the emotions flowing between them jolted him like a bare electrical wire. Before he realized what he was doing, Michael leaned down and kissed her gently. He began to draw her closer for a more serious kiss, but became aware of his actions and forced himself to pull back. Instead, he reached out with one hand and caressed her cheek.

"I'll be back to check on you tonight," he told her, regaining his bedside manner. "You rest now."

"That's all I've been doing for two days..."

"Good. You need all the rest you can get, and then some. I'll see you later." Once he was safely in the hallway, Michael forced himself to think only of her medical condition as he walked down the stairs to his office.

Two days post-operative: still extremely weak (to be expected) but already restless as hell. Beginning to eat again, accordinfg to her chart. In pain, of course, but not abnormally so, considering the severe shock the surgery had been to her body. Jaime was strong-willed, and she was fighting her way back. This patient, he assured himself, would be fine.

Michael went back and checked on her again after she'd had dinner. The pain meds had put her out like a light, and he was able to check her over (normal and ok for two and a half days post-op) and she went right on sleeping.

Doctor Michael Marchetti smiled to himself as he sank down onto his office sofa for some much-needed rest of his own. She was doing even better than he had dared to hope or expect. In another day or two they could begin tests to find out how much (if any) of her memory she had regained.

Then, without warning, at three days post-operative, things went suddenly, horribly wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael heard Jaime's screams from all the way down the hall, down the stairs, in his office. His coffee mug clattered to the floor and he was in her room before the nurses had a chance to page him. Jaime was in her bed, thrashing about like a corned wild cat. tears streamed down her face and she screamed as though in mortal terror, and yet - she was not awake. The nurse at her bedside turned to Michael, her eyes wide with fear.

"Doctor, I can't wake her up!"

Michael reached for his patient. Her entire body - flesh and bionics - was trembling violently. "She's in shock. Get me 30 mg diazepam for injection and page Doctor Wells." The nurse nodded and nearly flew from the room. She returned mere moments and handed Michael a syringe. Rudy Wells followed close behind.

"Rudy, can you hold her arm still?" Michael plunged the needle into Jaime's arm and, as her movements slowed and the screaming ceased, he took her in his arms and gently patted her back to comfort her. Even Rudy couldn't object to this.

"Ok, Sweetheart - you're ok," Michael said soothingly. Her trembling stopped as she went limp in his arms. Her sobs continued, but more quietly. Her doctor took her pulse and monitored her breathing as he held her, and once her condition began to stabilize, he eased her back down into her bed.

"Steve..." she murmured, causing the young doctor to flinch. From the other side of her bed, Rudy arranged the blankets around her and wiped the tears from her face.

"Jaime, it's Rudy; can you hear me? It's time to wake up now."

Jaime let out one last urgent scream : "_Steve!"_ She sat up in bed, suddenly jolted completely awake, and looked at the doctors in complete confusion. Rudy was looking at her intently, worry lining his face. Michael was staring at the floor.

"What?" she asked weakly.

Rudy put a hand on her forehead. Cool and normal. He took her hand. "Honey, are you in pain?" he asked.

"I...don't know...was falling..."

"You were dreaming, Sweetheart," Michael told her while Rudy filled another syringe from a vial in his pocket and injected her. "Do you remember what it was about? You were falling?" Michael glanced over at Rudy, then continued. "Was Steve with you?"

"Jus' kept falling," Jaime whispered. "So high..." She was trying to cooperate, but her eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead. "Was gonna die," she managed before slipping into drug-induced oblivion.

Rudy turned to the nurse. "Stay with her and page us immediately if there's any change." He motioned to Michael, and the two of them walked in stunned silence to Rudy's office.

"I'll run a CT scan once she's had some rest," Michael planned aloud. "Then a full neuro work-up. Damn! - I wish she could've told us more about that dream."

Both men fell silent for a moment, until the same thought hit them almost simultaneously. "Her accident!" they exclaimed in near-perfect unison.

"She was falling after her chute tore," Michael began.

"From 'so high' - and Steve was with her," Rudy continued. "The pieces fit. She's remembering her accident. That could actually be a good thing."

"Yeah, but if it sends her into physical shock...or if she starts rejecting again...Her memory is no blessing if it kills her."

Rudy nodded grimly. "We'll run your tests, and test for rejection antibodies, too. If all is well, we can go from there.

If not, we'll deal with it."

"And if our suspicions are right, I'll have to call Steve."

"Yup."

Several days and many tests later, it was clear that the nightmare had dealt Jaime's recovery a serious setback, severely weakening her body and making her (for the first time) fearful of what was ahead. Aside from that, they found no physical abnormalities or surgical complications.

"What about pentothal?" Michael suggested, looking for a way to test Jaime's memory without making her even more fearful.

"I think hypnosis is a better way to go," Doctor Wells told him.

"Maybe in normal cases, Rudy, but Jaime's already scared out of her mind; she could resist hypnosis to the point where it wouldn't work at all."

"You're her doctor," Rudy conceded. "It's ultimately your decision. I do hope you'll wait a little longer before you try it, though. She's still too weak to withstand what could happen."

"Of course. But you're her doctor too, Rudy. You've been with her longer than I have," Michael told him. "And I've always valued your opinion - even when I don't ask for it."

"Maybe, but this is your surgery. And I have to admit you're probably right about hypnosis. Even in the condition she's in, Jaime can be very strong-willed -"

"Stubborn?" Michael interjected.

Rudy smiled. "As long as you said it - stubborn enough to resist. But we have to tread very lightly, Michael."

"I know."


	4. Chapter 4

When Michael checked on his patient later that morning, it was obvious that her spirit and morale were even weaker than her body. Her breakfast remained untouched and he could see that she'd been crying. When he'd finished assessing her physical condition, he turned his attention to improving her emotional well-being.

"I'll bet some fresh air might make you feel better," he suggested. "You'd have to ride in your buddy, the chair, but it'd be a change of scenery, and I'd be happy to take you."

For the first time since she's had the nightmare, Jaime allowed a slight smile to play on her lips. "I think I'd like that," she said. A few minutes later, as Michael pushed her wheelchair through the garden, her smile grew wider and more genuine. The warm July breeze felt so good on her skin, and for a little while the fear that had been her constant companion for the last few days was temporarily forgotten.

Michael stopped beside a stream that ran in back of the hospital. "You want to sit in the grass?" he offered. Jaime nodded, and Michael put an arm arounbd her waist and eased her out of the chair and onto the soft, green grass next to the water. He watched as the sunlight reflected off the stream and danced across her face. Two distinct emotions fought each other in his mind: relief that his patient's spirits had finally taken an upturn, and an intense love for the woman he was watching happily commune with nature. He knew it was wrong, knew Rudy would want his head on a platter, but he couldn't change how he felt.

"I love you, Jaime," he said quietly, moving closer to draw her into a long, very non-platonic kiss.

That afternoon, Michael sat in Rudy's office with his head in his hands. Wells had radar; of that he was certain. How else could he have been on the third floor sunporch, looking out at the weather, at exactly the wrong time?

"I'm sorry, Rudy," he pleaded, meaning it. "it won't happen again." Of that, Michael was not as sure.

"Damned right it won't!" Rudy stormed, pacing the floor. "You need to make a choice, Michael, and you're going to make it now. Do I need to pull you off of her case? Report you to the ethics board myself?"

"No," Michael answered, unable to say more without choking on his emotions. He knew he had to give Jaime up if he wanted to give her back her life.

"Where's Jaime now?" Rudy asked.

"In bed. The fresh air really wore her out."

"The fresh air, or you?"

"That's unfair, Rudy! I -"

They were interrupted by an urgent knock on the office door. Jaime's nurse burst in, out of breath from her run down the hall. "Something's wrong!" she gasped. Both doctors were halfway to Jaime's room before she could say anything more.

They found their patient out of bed, huddled in a corner, her face ghostlike: pale white and haunted. "They won't stop," she said as Michael picked her up and put her back in her bed. They just keep coming, and I can't see any of them because they're going too fast and they just don't stop, and - OW!" She stopped rambling with a jolt as Rudy withdrew the needle from her arm.

"What won't stop, Honey?" the older doctor asked gently. "Dreams?"

"No! I'm awake and they still keep coming. I see my parents...and Steve...and his parents...and...the...accident..." Her voice tapered off as the sedative took effect. Both doctors knew they no longer had the luxury of waiting until she was stronger. jaime would need to be tested with pentothal as soon as possible.

The next morning, Michael was back in Jaime's room, checking on her physical progress before taking her emotional temperature. "Have you had that dream anymore?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Once was enough."

"Then you do remember it?" Jaime nodded, terror filling her face and tears forming in her eyes.

"Talk to me about it? Might help." Jaime didn't answer. "I know it's scary, Sweetheart, and painful, and probably the worst thing that ever happened to you. But it's also a memory, and it's leading to other memories. That's what you wanted, the whole reason you're here."

She began haltingly. "Steve kissed me, and he -he let go of my hands. He pulled his rip cord and started floating. Then I...I pulled my cord..." Jaime stopped, too shaky to continue.

"Ok; that was a really good start." he pulled a needle from his pocket. "I know you told the nurse you feel like a human pincushion, but too much stress right now is just too taxing on your body, and you really do need to rest." Without waiting for her response, he gave her the shot. Almost immediately her eyelids began to flutter and she leaned back onto the pillow. Michael brushed the hair from her eyes and kissed her softly on the forehead as she sank into a restless, uneasy sleep.

Guilt tore through Michael like wildfire. The surgery had been his creation, and his suggestion. Now she had to be sedated just to get through the day emotionally intact. _What had he done?_

Later that day, Michael began to find out exactly what he had done; testing had begun. "How do you feel, Honey?" Rudy asked as the pentothal began dripping into her vein.

Jaime grinned at him. "You're not Peter Cottontail yet, but you're getting there."

Michael couldn't resist a chuckle. "You're definitely in better spirits after that last nap," he said, pulling a chair up to her bedside. "That's good." His face turned serious. "Jaime, tell us about your accident. What happened after you pulled the cord?"

"Right to it, huh?" Her eyes grew distant as she began to remember. Both doctors watched her closely. "The sky was so pretty, so blue. I pulled my cord and my chute opened, but then I heard this weird sound and I looked up..." Jaime took a deep breath to choke back a sob. She was determined to finish this time.

Michael took her hand in both of his. "What did you see when you looked up, Sweetheart?"

"My chute...was gone...little pieces...wanted to pull the reserve but no time...ground was coming too fast. I was falling so fast. And I was gonna die. Then - I hit."

"You did a beautiful job, Honey," Rudy told her. He removed the pentothal bottle from her IV and picked up the oxygen mask. "I'm going to put this over your face, and -"

"He took me to my prom, and to his Senior class New Years Eve party - such a good kisser! - and to Guido's, and we rode horses and -"

Michael and Rudy exchanged worried looks. Was she reacting to the pentothal, or was this something else entirely? Jaime continued to chatter like a wind-up doll whose key had been turned too far. "Once he came to my tennis match in his uniform. He cheered louder than anybody. and -"

"Jaime, I need to put this over your face now." Rudy fastened the oxygen mask in place before she could say more. "I need you to take some nice deep breaths for me, please."

Jaime complied. The pentothal's effects began to diminish and, out of sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep.

The two doctors retreated to Rudy's office to talk. Rudy poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Michael: a peace offering after yesterday's explosion. Michael nodded his thanks.

"Well, we know now that she does remember - even more than we thought she did," Rudy noted.

"Trouble is, it's hitting her all at once," Michael added. "Too fast to focus on anything. She's too overwhelmed to process or absorb any of it. And we can't keep sedating her forever."

"No, we can't. But there does seem to be a common thread to all these memories; the ones she lost and the ones that have come back."

"I know," Michael said, unable to hide his sadness. "Steve."

"Maybe he's the key to bringing it all into focus," Rudy suggested.

"Or maybe he'd only make it that much worse."

"We have to find out, Michael. He's too big a piece of the puzzle to simply ignore. Just remember the motto: Tread very lightly."

"Right."

An hour later, Michael sat alone at his desk and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He knew what he had to do next, but at what cost? He had perfected his new surgical technique primarily to help the woman he had grown to love so deeply. Now, in doing what was best for her - for his patient - he stood to lose her forever. Michael sighed, picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello - Steve?"

THE END


End file.
